Flawed
by Reinbeauchaser
Summary: A man pays a visit to his recent past and gets an unexpected encounter. A oneshot, set in the Movie OneOriginal Origin universe, and is Oruku Saki centric.


_**Disclaimer **_– _TMNT's and all related characters are property of other people, namely Mirage, Eastman and Laird, and the powers that be at 4KidsTV. _

_A one-shot about an aftermath and what might have happened. Set in the Movie One universe. _

**Flawed **

by reinbeauchaser

Posture erect and with his eyes taking in every detail of the city, he walked confidently down the sidewalk. With the nearly soundless tap of his shoes marking his progress, he passed alongside towering buildings that stretched upwards towards the darkened evening sky. Each step measured to perfection, his stride was as confident as he was.

As he strode up the street, the chilly evening air bit through the exposed area around his neck and face. In response, he tugged his coat tighter around him, before turning the collar up, its fur-lined surface now flush to his skin. With the soft mink tickling his ears, he pulled at the edges, and wrapped the collar closer to his cheeks for more protection from the elements.

He sighed and then took a deep cleansing breath. As he exhaled, ribbons of vapor trailed upwards before dissipating.

_Yes, winter will soon be here_, he mused wryly.

It reminded him, too, that come the weekend he would be in his native country once more. There, he would properly welcome winter's arrival and his heart swelled with longing to see his homeland again. It had been far too long since the last time, five years in fact, but - first, he had a task to do, one more assignment he needed to complete. He had to make sure.

As the breeze swept up the street in its northward journey, it tugged at the hem of his coat, parting the material playfully. Unlike his response with his collar, though, he ignored it. His legs, sheathed within expensive black Armani slacks, were not as sensitive to the brisk weather as his blemished face now was and he growled inwardly, easily remembering the event that caused it to be that way. And, as quickly, he dismissed it, because it would do him little good to get angry. He was above all of that now. His path before him was clear of any rivals and he knew that success would soon follow.

It had to, for he had worked long and hard to see to its fruition. Consequently, he allowed a small smile to crease his face, as his confidence returned once more.

All around him, though, neon signs littering rooftops, as well as interior lights from stores lining the boulevard, screamed for attention, their garish Mardi Gras of colors chasing away even the most stubborn of shadows. Although he personally favored the darker recesses of existence, for once, the man allowed himself to bask within the unnatural, undulating light of the city.

Like trees in a forest, hundreds of tall skyscrapers rose like sentries above him, their spires reaching towards the heavens while dwarfing the man to nothingness. In fact, their massive grandeur reduced him to but a mere speck.

Yet, despite the differences between the two - man and manmade - the pedestrian's very countenance all but challenged the gleaming edifices. It was as if, with one single flick from his finger, he could cause them to topple like dominos and he chuckled to himself, knowing that one day, he would certainly do as much. He would, one day, control this bustling metropolis filled with an unsuspecting people, a very naïve people, who were unaware of the kind of power he possessed within himself.

Even the breeze itself seemed to pause before his countenance. In response, the sudden stillness put to ground the tumbling bits of paper and leaves it had carried along. The pause in their ballet now forced them to lay dormant along the concrete sidewalk, that is, until the breeze picked up again. Then, they began their errant journey once more, swirling in mass as they gathered speed, and resuming their dance up the streets of New York City.

Nevertheless, few people milled about at this time of night, where most were already home in bed. Other than the nightshift of custodians and those frequenting clubs and bars, it was reasonably quiet. There was the usual line of cars and cabs traveling the streets, of course, but for the most part, the boulevard was about as deserted of crowds as any New York City street could be at this hour

Yet, despite the apparent lack of activity, it was obvious to the man that the city still teemed with life, hidden in shadow, and waiting for some unsuspecting victim to pass by. Because of that, he was fully alert to every sound, every person, and every leaf that tripped along the concrete walkway. Nothing and no one managed by his almost nondescript observance and awareness. He was not one for surprises and, considering his line of work, he wouldn't be anyway. Absentmindedly, he fondled the handle of his hidden wazikashi; the knife tucked neatly into the belt of his trousers, and at the ready should he need it.

As the breeze increased its velocity, however, he further adjusted the collar around his neck. He brought it up higher to his face, making sure it hid and protected the scares. He next plunged his hands deep into the pockets of his insulated coat and berated himself for not bringing along his gloves. Still, despite how cold the temperatures were, they weren't nearly cold enough to discourage this outing. He needed to see one last time the apartment, one last look before he left for home.

As he came to a traffic light and as it turned red for his direction, he stopped and waited. Cars and taxis took advantage of the green and zipped through the intersection in front of him from the side street. One bus rumbled onto the boulevard as well, and he watched it as it turned northward back towards his hotel. The man allowed his gaze to follow its path, quickly assessing the passengers. Wondering if any were from his organization, he found that no one looked familiar. As the public transport continued up the street, the pedestrian allowed his eyes to linger on the businesses across the street from him.

A sign caught his attention and he quickly found that it belonged to a travel agency. Along with a few other posters boasting of exotic-looking destinations, pictures of Mount Fuji and Tokyo adorned the shop's windows. They beckoned passersby with their picturesque beauty, enticing them to stop in and make reservations.

He smiled, then, thoughts of home once again edging his mind.

The light then changed to green and, so, he proceeded across the intersection. When he reached the other side, he turned west, heading away from the busier part of town. Now he walked towards a quieter stretch of neighborhood, his destination a row of apartments two blocks further up the smaller street, and tucked in-between the previous major thoroughfare and another.

He kicked haphazardly through a mound of leaves collected on the sidewalk. As his feet whisked through them, the dried remnants of summer crunched beneath his weight. Normally, he would have avoided making such noise, but he was in an especially good mood this evening. It was that, as well as the need to crush them. He liked the sound and in a surreal way, it symbolized his plans for the future. Whether leaf or opponent, he would oppress all who stood in his path. He would teach those who did not heed to his will, to learn to do so, to bow to his power and superiority.

Yes, he had plans and he would do whatever it took to see them to completion.

While the man traversed the next couple of blocks, his mind turned to other matters. He knew that, come tomorrow, he would be leaving this town of drunkards and prostitutes, this city of garish colors and tapestries. In less than twenty-four hours, he would replace his present scenery with that of his beloved Japan. And, for a moment, a rare bit of melancholy gripped his chest. How he missed her. No country could compare to the tranquil beauty of his island home, certainly not this nation of many states. The ancient architectures of his native land, the magnificent palaces and pagodas, not to mention the lush and vibrantly hued gardens - these memories were intoxicating, calling to him, begging him to return. He knew he had been gone for far too long and so his young heart yearned for familiar surroundings. He was hungry to return to his culture's time-honored traditions, the ancient courtesy of bowing low in greeting, contrary to this country's habit of touching, of shaking hands. It was the gracious behavior of his compatriots that he truly appreciated - and missed, more so now than ever.

_Yes,_ Saki said quietly, _home sounds very good right now and most especially, where I will return victorious_.

And victorious he was! He had finally righted the wrong the dishonorable Hamato Yoshi had inflicted upon his clan. Oroku Saki smiled, for he had finally avenged his brother's murder, a quest he had decided upon many years before at his brother's graveside. The youngest had brought to justice the man he called 'coward'. It was quite by accident when he had found his nemesis, too, where the man in question worked as day labor for a construction company, and not too many blocks away from where Saki currently walked. If not for the fact that Saki had taken a wrong turn down Seventh, he would have missed Yoshi all together.

Yet, nevertheless, he did find him and it was all Saki could do to keep from exacting vengeance on the man right then.

Instead, he following the man home and discovered where Yoshi and his wife, Tang Shen, lived. By the next night, Saki had his revenge, smiting both husband and wife with a deathblow that found its way into local news.

And, as he knew it would be, the case was still unsolved, a fitting end to the man who took his brother's life, Nagi's legacy. As Saki thought again upon his enemy's finally moments, reflectively he pulled one hand from his coat pocket, and reached up gently to touch the side of his face.

The bandages were finally off and his wound had healed nicely, save for the obvious scars. After several infections and a threat of losing part of his face, the doctor finally released him; fully healed, save for the obvious reminder.

Still, it grated at him that he had any kind of physical reminder to that night.

"Except for that wretched creature, that despicable filthy rat, my victory would have been _flawless_," he growled low, snarling a little.

Again, he gingerly touched each 'stripe' left behind by the rodent's angry claws, feeling the disfigurement the rat had inflicted. Its actions had been quite uncharacteristic for such a simple animal, which was why Saki was unprepared for its vicious attack. Of course, the man had retaliated quickly, slashing at the creature with his katana. Yet, just as quickly, the pest had disappeared and Saki couldn't find it. He wasn't sure how much of the creature his sword bit into, but he knew he had injured it and so he was quite confident that it had wandered off to die. Soon after, he left the blood-splattered apartment in the same way he entered, silently and without a trace.

He then chuckled, imagining the frustration he caused the local police, when they couldn't determine who had killed Yoshi and Shen. Even last week, there was a casual mention of the unsolved murder. _And so it shall remain_, he hissed.

Saki was, after all, no newbie behind clandestine assassinations. The ninja master's ability to leave no trail behind was unparalleled. Even the most sophisticated CSI could discern his hits, but he was through with that now, his way was clear, there would be no more need for his involvement with such trivialities. He would have others do his dirty work for him. And if they should find themselves in police custody, he would disavow any association with them. Cash payment for any hit job would guarantee that, anyway.

Realizing his scars wouldn't disappear by touch alone, Saki huffed once, and returned his chilled hand to the warmth of his fur-lined pocket again. Although he would gladly enlist the skill of a plastic surgeon to smooth his skin to its original perfection and he certainly had the financial means to do it, a few days earlier he had decided not to. He would keep his face as is, an obvious reminder of his victory, his true conquest, that of killing Hamato Yoshi. Although he would admit to being vain, a man who preened and who enjoyed his own image, there was some consolation with his marred visage. It represented the price paid to reclaiming his brother's honor.

Yes, as he thought to himself, he knew in Japan that his striking beauty had attracted a willing collection of bedmates – and despite his commitment to ninjitsu, he did little to discourage it.

Saki smiled as he thought of the many young women who begged to join him in his personal chambers. A few 'special ones' came to mind, then, and he allowed himself to get lost in his memories, his recollections, but only for a moment. Then, he suddenly scowled as a new thought occurred to him.

_How would they see me, now where my face is so…ugly? _For a moment, Saki reconsidered the Price paid, as his worry and concerns took a different direction. After a moment, his resolve hardened once again, as he decided upon a course of action.

_They…cannot see me, I will make sure of it!_ he said to himself, proudly tilting his head up just, his confident step strengthening defiantly. "_Some how, I must make sure they see only my eyes. After all, they say that, through them, one can see the soul of a man - or their own death. Besides, it is not my face that makes them happy."_ He smiled again, chuckling with that thought. His body responded slightly, heightening his eagerness for home. He would definitely 'celebrate' once he returned and with the choicest of females, too. _Yes, I will more than make up for this – minor – flaw, they will be far too happy afterwards to even care about what I look like." _His stride lengthened in response_, "I will make sure of it!" _

Soon, Saki's destination came into view and he scowled. As he stood in front of the five-story brick building and faced it fully, he considered the structure with a disparaging smirk. It was one of many like-sized apartments in a block-long collection of weathered brownstones, each standing side by side. In their prime, they were probably quite beautiful, but too many years and neglect had reduced them to an unsavory line of unkempt row houses, now turned apartments.

Saki snorted, softly growling out, his voice barely audible, "How lowly you fell, Yoshi." Then, he spat, his spittle spraying thickly along the ground at his feet, "The common Foot soldier lived better than this." He shorted, "The once and mighty ninja is now less than ronin, he is dead…dust…no more, gone forever from my life and from the clan's. Nagi's honor is restored and now I can return home victorious."

He narrowed his eyes at the brownish-red building, as if by that alone he would further insult the ghost of his enemy. For a long pregnant pause, he stared hard at the structure, inspecting each blackened, lightless window, daring Yoshi to challenge him, even from the grave. Satisfied that none would come, he turned and prepared to walk back to his hotel. In the morning, he would be gone from this unworthy metropolis and, months from now, when he returned, he would begin his slow and methodical conquest of New York City. He had everyone in place, everyone where he wanted them, and none was aware of his leaving, so they would continue as he had trained and manipulated them to be.

However, as he took the first of many steps that would take him back to the main boulevard he suddenly stopped, almost frozen where he stood. In a moment quicker than he could disappear, like frost-kissed leaves, his confidence fell away. His body stiffened with an unfamiliar panic, Saki's breathing becoming shallow, as his heart raced. For brief poignant moment, he replayed a scene from months earlier, one that resulted in a flawed face. He shook his head and stared hard at the ground before him and snarled, fighting the near overwhelming feeling of losing control, but failing miserably nonetheless.

_This is not right_, he hissed, _I am ninja, I am_ _**Oruku Saki**, master of my environment and of my world. This - can - not - BE! _

Saki did his best to convince himself of this fact, but what stood in front of him was something he could not deny. He stared hard at the thing before him, glaring at it, as it stared back. The creature stood only five feet away from the man, its whiskers twitching curiously, its ears forward and expecting.

_This…this is…**impossible**!_ Saki declared between clenched teeth.

Yet, no matter how hard he tried, the animal remained standing, not sitting, but standing, almost taunting him.

It was a rat. He was no more than two feet tall, but it was taller than any rodent Saki had ever seen! As the beast's whiskers twitched and its ears turned forward in anticipation, it was as if the vermin was assessing the man with his black, beady eyes. For a long moment, Saki found himself lost in those darkened orbs, too, and what he saw made him take a step back.

_Intelligence? _

Sake shook his head and laughed at his own reaction. Obviously, he was remembering Yoshi's rat and its attack on him. That rat was small, compared to this one, though, and so the man dismissed his newfound concern. Still, despite the large difference in size, there was something about the creature, something familiar. The man then looked closer, more intently, marveling at how unafraid the creature was of him. Saki realized that this rat was not one's normal rat and - even more bazaar, it seemed to recognize him.

_But – how? _

The ear, the ear looked as if something had sliced part of it off.

_Could it be?_ _NO, of course not, my mind is playing games with me; visiting Yoshi's neighborhood is causing me to hallucinate. I must be more tired than I feel. I killed it, I know I did, probably sliced half its head off and it only ran away on instincts alone. This is not the same rat; this is not Yoshi's vermin pet. His rat died. This one is far too big to be the same one. _

Yet, still, the creature kept looking up at him. Saki stared back in return, widened his eyes menacingly, hoping to frighten the animal into submission.

Almost defiantly, though, it held his gaze, seeming to challenging him.

Finally, the man found his courage once again and stomped his foot and waved his arms around to scare the rodent away. In response, it snarled and hissed, snapping jaws, and advanced once, whipping its tail as if it ready to attack.

And in that moment, Saki's confidence failed him - again. The man took a step back, all too mindful of what happened the last time he fought with a rat.

Then, just as Saki believed it would attack him, just as he thought he would have to pull out his wazikashi, the creature went to all fours and quickly slipped into the nearby shadows, disappearing without a trace.

Saki stood there for the longest time, trying to quell his furiously beating heart, berating himself for allowing such a 'thing' to get away. It took a few minutes before he felt in control again, but, before he could take even a single step, he gave one careful regard to the bushes into which the creature had disappeared.

Then, finding his feet again, he skirted wide around that particular area, his eyes keen on the shadows there. The fact the streetlamp was broken made it harder to discern one shadow from the other and he had chuckle to himself about the irony. Here he was, a superbly trained ninja, currently afraid of shadows. Nevertheless, with his determination returning, he made sure the way was clear, before progressing up the street. Every fiber of his ninja sense was on alert and, for a moment, there was an unmistakable feeling of someone or something watching him.

He hesitated slightly, wanting to prove to himself that it was only his mind playing tricks on him. But, he had an early flight to catch and so he decided not to waste any more time on the matter.

He took careful steps towards the busier part of the city, his eyes sweeping over his general area. As he walked along, he studied every shadow and yard, as if the monstrosity would return. With his hand on the hidden hilt of his short sword, he prepared, just in case.

Then, he chuckled, realizing how foolish it was to fear such a miserable creature. He must have imagined it, or at least thought it bigger than it was. After all, had he not been thinking about how he had regained honor for his clan and the price he paid, the event that facilitated it? The rat from a moment ago was only another denizen of New York City, Saki was certain.

He chuckled, _Of course, that's it, Ho_w _foolish of me to let my imagination run away like that. _

It only further convinced the man that he had demons yet to conquer and that he had to make sure it would never happen again. His sabbatical at home would help him to dispel forever any such weaknesses. He was man, after all, and he could wipe out the city's entire hoard of rats if he wanted to – and he would – once he returned to New York.

And, if Yoshi's rat still lived, Saki would make certain to eradicate every rodent in the city, just to be certain his victory was complete, to avenge its attack on him. It might take years, decades even, but in the end, New York City would be rat free and, most importantly, it would be his.

He was a patient man, after all, a student of Zen and Bushido, and with a prize as great as this metropolis, Saki would make definite changes, that much he was determined.

As his stride grew in confidence and as he headed for the main boulevard again, Oruku Saki began to make plans for his return. Clan business here was going well, but he needed recruits. He would start small, though, quietly sending his soldiers out to harvest the lost souls of the youth. He had seen the teenage boys and girls roaming aimlessly through the streets of New York and he knew what they wanted. He would offer them all the amenities they longed for, a life of comfort and self-indulging and then, when he had their trust, he would train them to be soldiers in his grand army of ninja warriors.

He gloated to himself, then, as he would train his army of thieves, his empire; right under the nose of the authorities. Before they would even know what hit them, he would reign supreme. Once he had his victory, he would manipulate his image to one of respect, easing himself under the wing of the influential and the politically informed.

He laughed then, his momentary encounter with the rat long forgotten, his mind fully engaged with his future schemes.

Suddenly, just as he came to the end of the block, just before he began to cross the street, a soft, low husky voice, as light as the wind, floated out from the shadows. His heart stilled when he heard the voice utter…"_Saki!" _

The man whipped around, startled from hearing his name, his heart racing once again and his breath short and frantic. "Who's there?" he called out, ordered, demanded of the shadows.

Nothing replied, only the soft whisper of wind as it feathered the furry fringe of his collar.

He took a few steps towards the neighborhood again, his posture defiant, his anger now overshadowing his fear, "Show yourself!" he challenged sharply.

Nothing, still.

"I demand that you SHOW yourself, or are you coward, are you _baka_?"

Farther away and as ghostly as Saki's personal demons, the same voice called out, carried along by the gentle breeze. Yet, it spoke its words in Oruko Saki's native tongue, "_In time, my **friend**." _

The man stood there, shocked, his eyes searching desperately up the street, boring into the shadows, trying to discern from where the voice had come and, most especially, to whom it belonged. It spoke in his language, perfect Japanese utterances, and in this part of town, it was least expected!

The man stood there for far longer than he should have normally, transfixed, mesmerized, as if rooted into the concrete sidewalk. All the while, he tried to register the voice in his memory, to match it to anyone he might know or have known. It wasn't Yoshi, that much Saki knew; ghosts were for the timid, the superstitious. Unsuccessful in determining its owner, he committed the voice to memory, making certain the next time he heard it he would remember it. _In time, my friend? _he thought. No, not a friend, it wasn't spoken in that way.

Saki knew that whatever or whomever it was, he was no friend of his.

Quickly and before he allowed too much of an opportunity for the 'ghost' to attack, the man turned heel and headed quickly for the main thoroughfare. He would soon leave this deplorable city – and the voice – behind.

Good riddance to them all.

As the human form grew distant, a large, cat sized shape emerged from shadows stretching across the front of one apartment building. The rat huddled low to the ground, staring and watching as Saki's pace further distanced him from the structure. The creature growled once and then stood up, wrapping its tail protectively around its feet. It looked back towards the apartment with misty eyes and, satisfied, grabbed up a small sack from under a bush nearby. Then, after making sure no one was watching, he turned towards the street. Once there, it glanced again towards the direction the man had walked, waiting, watching as Saki reached the main boulevard. As the man quickly crossed the street, heading north towards the hotel district, the rat twitched its whiskers and snorted once.

Satisfied, it grasped its bag tighter and dropped down to street level, then took one last look at the house. Eyes misty, a low moan escaped his lips, but he quickly turned tail, easing into the sewer grating, and disappearing…without a trace.


End file.
